Chapter 661: The First Gate of Great Xuan

The crowd stood on the barge's deck, gazing into the distance.

There, where the Huitong River met the Wei River, the setting sun painted the water gold and crimson.

Along both banks stretched watchtowers and checkpoints.

Black-robed clerks, sallow-faced haulers, merchants, porters…

All manner of people moved back and forth, their clamor drowning out the roar of the current.

The river entrance was completely blocked by a towering wooden lock gate.

Dozens of cargo barges and passenger boats crowded before the gate, waiting anxiously.

"Lift the dam!"

As the old clerk at the gate struck a bronze bell, the barge workers swiftly raised the gangplanks.

"Hei-ho, hei-ho~"

Bare-chested haulers on shore chanted as they pulled the ropes, sweat rolling down their bronze-toned backs.

As the winch turned, the massive wooden gate slowly rose.

The boats that had been waiting immediately entered.

After a dozen vessels passed, the gate lowered again, and the boats behind continued to wait.

This was the "lift dam" at the canal checkpoint.

The scene and scale rivaled any major wharf.

Li Yan and the others saw this and were not surprised.

Linqing City was no ordinary place—it was the northern empire's foremost commercial hub, the head of the Eight Canal Tax Gates, overseeing four hundred li of waterways, collecting taxes ten times greater than the entire Luzhou's total commercial revenue, ranking first in the nation.

Not even Jinan Prefecture, let alone Suzhou and Hangzhou, could compare.

"More prosperous than the Two Capitals"—this was no empty boast.

Not only was it garrisoned with heavy troops, but it was also the gathering point for merchant guilds from every province.

"Young Master Li."

A barge guild apprentice bowed respectfully. "Night is falling, and we won't pass the Linqing Tax Gate anytime soon. Why not disembark and spend the night in Linqing City? We'll reboard after we clear the gate tomorrow."

Li Yan frowned slightly. "Is passing the tax gate so troublesome?"

"Sigh~"

The barge guild apprentice sighed. "This is the empire's treasury—troubles abound. There's plenty of petty corruption, but we'll handle it. No need to sully your ears."

Li Yan thought for a moment. "Very well."

His original plan had not included stopping here.

Before reaching Tianjin City, he'd only planned to detour to Cangzhou to visit the Wu family.

But since matters had come to this, waiting one more night was no hardship.

As they spoke, the barge drew closer to the gate.

As the haulers turned the winch, the gate rose, and the barge entered.

Li Yan glanced around; a familiar feeling stirred in his chest.

This structure—he'd seen it on dams during his past life, never imagining it existed so early.

If he guessed right, there would be more gates ahead, altering the river's elevation and smoothing the current.

Unlike before, both banks now held soldiers and watchtowers, archers and gunners watching with bated breath, while small patrol boats cruised the water, tax officials inspecting cargo and collecting dues.

Li Yan remained expressionless, glancing left toward the riverbank.

There stood wooden poles, each bearing a corpse, bamboo tally tied around its neck.

"Those are all smugglers who evaded taxes…"

Seeing his gaze, the barge guild apprentice quickly whispered an explanation.

At that moment, a tax boat drifted slowly toward them.

The sun had set; the light was dim. An elderly tax official, holding a lantern marked "Tian," stepped onto the deck. His clothes were ragged, reeking of stale wine, and he swaggered, eyes darting left and right. "What are you waiting for? Search them!"

At his command, two junior clerks rushed into the cabin.

They stormed in like wolves, rummaging wildly.

A barge guild disciple, seeing this, quickly handed over a stamped "yinpiao" bearing the red tax seal.

The old official gave it a cursory glance, licked his fingertip, and turned the pages slowly.

"Oh no!"

A scream rang out.

The two clerks who had just entered were flung out of the cabin, rolling twice across the deck.

Lu San stepped from the cabin's darkness, face cold. "Move another inch, and I'll chop off your dog paws!"

The two clerks had spotted Li Yan's group's luggage—fine sandalwood chests, leather-wrapped for waterproofing—and grown greedy, trying to pry them open. Lu San had thrown them out.

"You—"

The old tax official's face darkened, ready to rage.

Seeing the fight, he wasn't alarmed.

The Grand Canal linked north and south, teeming with all manner of rogues—he'd seen them all.

But Linqing was heavily garrisoned. No matter how mighty a bandit, once here, dragons must coil, tigers must lie down. Defy tax collection, and by imperial decree, you're executed on the spot.

Yet before he could shout, Long Yan stretched out her sleeve.

The three tax officials froze, their eyes turning vacant.

"We've searched. Nothing happened before."

Long Yan's crimson lips parted, then she gestured, recalling her insects.

The three officials slowly regained awareness.

"You searched?"

"Yes. Just grain."

"Hmm."

The old official nodded, sensing something odd but unable to pinpoint it. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and pointed at the cargo hold. "Two baskets of Zhangzhou tangerines—why aren't they on the tax list?"

The barge carried only grain—no Zhangzhou tangerines.

Yet the barge disciple smiled and slipped silver coins into the official's hand. "Yes, yes, we'll make up the tax right away."

The old official stuffed the silver into his sleeve, then swept his lantern over the stern before waving them off.

"Alright. Next!"

With that, he and his two subordinates leapt onto their small boat and departed.

"Damn…"

Sha Lifei laughed. "We've passed many checkpoints in our travels, but never one so brazen. No wonder they call this the empire's number-one checkpoint—plucks every feather from every goose!"

"Please, calm down."

The barge disciple smiled bitterly. "The tax supervisor of Linqing is a eunuch from the capital—Ma Eunuch. He's been with His Majesty since childhood, wielding immense power—even the garrison answers to him. We dare not offend him."

"So he's a eunuch from the capital…"

Li Yan shook his head slightly. "So we've cleared the gate?"

"It's not that simple."

The barge disciple sighed. "Linqing is the empire's top tax hub, where wealth and grain converge. Everyone wants a cut—procedures pile one upon another. Even we, who regularly grease palms, spend a full day."

"I've made arrangements. Rest in the city tonight. By tomorrow afternoon, you should be able to leave."

"Very well."

Li Yan nodded, saying nothing more.

They could afford to offend locals, but they'd only bring trouble to the barge guild.

Only after receiving the red-sealed stamp did the barge dock.

Linqing's prosperity needed no description—the stories of The Golden Lotus unfolded here. Nearly half the street tales circulating today originated here, revealing its status in the hearts of Great Xuan's common folk.

Once, upon reaching Zhujing Town in Songjiang Prefecture, someone wrote a poem describing Zhujing:

"Ten thousand hearths glow like a capital city, once the Yuan court placed its great treasury here. Merchants come and go, laden to the brim; still today, they call it Little Linqing."

Zhujing Town in Songjiang Prefecture was Shanghai's former incarnation—now called "Little Linqing."

Even at night, the bustle and splendor surged toward them.

Especially since Li Yan possessed the Sense of Smell and Sense of Hearing—he missed nothing.

At alley mouths along the riverbank, piles of Jiangnan bamboo were hauled into shops by porters; bamboo tips brushed past banners reading "Suzhou-Hangzhou Silk" and "Songjiang Cotton," stirring dust and the sharp curses of southern dialects…

At the alley's end, a Shanxi merchant's mule and horse caravan clattered over cobblestones; several men spoke with northern frontier accents, their bamboo baskets and backframes faintly releasing the scent of earth and old ginseng—likely mountain hunters partnered with Shanxi merchants…

On the western bank, seventy-two official kilns had begun their evening fires, black smoke twisting with the twilight.

Kiln workers, drenched in sweat, carried bricks—each stamped clearly with "Kiln Master Zhang, Jinglong 13th Year."

These were Linqing tribute bricks, made from lotus soil of the Yellow River and nearly twenty processes, "ringing when struck, hollow-free when broken," becoming the primary building material for the imperial palace. Each brick bore the firing date, kiln master's name, and artisan's name.

Elegant pleasure boats from Jiangnan glided by, their interiors carrying music and laughter, white, slender fingers tossing peanut shells into the water…

At the wharf taverns, shouts of dice games rose; short-term laborers squatted under eaves, drinking coarse liquor with flatbread. One drunkard muttered, "Ma the Eunuch's claws stretch longer than the canal!" Others quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, glancing nervously at the tax official's lantern…

Looking around, Li Yan unexpectedly thought of Along the River During the Qingming Festival.

"This place is truly lively—even Chang'an can't match it!"

Even Sha Lifei let out a sigh of awe.

When night fully descended, the Chen family barge finally moored at the South Gate Wharf.

Li Yan and the others stepped onto the gangway and ashore, seeing the city gate still open in the distance, revealing a city ablaze with lanterns.

Afraid the minor officials might scheme again, they unloaded all their luggage, hired a cart pulled by oxen, and under the guidance of a Caobang disciple, creaked slowly toward the city center.

Linqing's splendor was even greater at night.

On both sides of the street, every shop remained open, brightly lit, and the thoroughfare still teemed with pedestrians.

The accompanying Caobang disciple chuckled, "You all arrived at a perfect time—this city has countless places to enjoy at night. Just the brothel alleys alone number three full streets, with Yangzhou's slender horses, Mizhi's wives, even women from the Rus country—if you want music, you can find troupes from every corner of the land…"

"We'll pass on the music."

Li Yan shook his head slightly. "What are the local specialties to eat?"

"Oh, plenty!"

The Caobang disciple, clearly a food lover, answered without hesitation: "Linqing is a prosperous place; the merchant guilds here are rich and obsessed with refined cuisine—sliced fish chilled in ice from Jiangnan, mixed-flavor noodles, northern lamb hotpots—all available. If you're willing to spend, even the 'General of Dishes' will cook for you personally…"

As he spoke, he couldn't help swallowing hard.

"Oh?"

Li Yan grew curious, but just as he was about to ask, a commotion ahead interrupted him.

In the center of the street, two groups of martial artists stood facing each other, weapons drawn, glaring fiercely.

Leading the left side was a lean man in gray cotton shorts, his fists raised, left hand forming the "Elephant Trunk Fist" lightly clasped at his waist, right arm's long sleeve hanging like flowing clouds, his footprints etched into the ground—clearly he had already channeled hidden force.

Li Yan's eyes narrowed. "Sun Bin Fist?"

Sun Bin Fist, said to have been passed down by the Warring States strategist Sun Bin, has no definitive records; because practitioners wear long sleeves, it is also called "Long Sleeve Fist," famed for its 360 linked techniques, with chicken legs, dragon waist, monkey agility, and the "Elephant Trunk Fist" as its primary form—popular in Luzhou.

The stance and sleeves were unmistakable.

"Li Shaoxia has sharp eyes!"

The accompanying Caobang disciple flattered him, then whispered toward the front: "That man is Yuan Heng, second disciple of the Yang Family Martial Hall. He's always brawling, loitering around Linqing's alleys—a hothead."

"The one across from him isn't any better—Tian Fan, trained in Tan Tui. Both gangs are martial schools, but they don't practice martial arts—they've allied with city rats and temple vermin, fighting over territory and often clashing violently."

Sha Li Fei chuckled. "Don't their masters discipline them?"

Martial schools have rules: what meals to eat, what meals to avoid—no crossing the line.

If a disciple turns out like this, the master's face is ruined.

"Sigh~"

The Caobang disciple shook his head, whispering: "These two are useless, but they've got corrupt officials behind them, helping them with shady business. Others avoid them."

As he spoke, the bearded giant Tian Fan had already bent his legs like ancient roots, tucking his robe hem into his belt—classic Linqing Tan Tui stance—and sneered: "Yuan, look at yourself—acting like a monkey. If you ever slipped into Miss Zhao's chamber, you'd scare her to death!"

"Shut your mouth!"

Yuan Heng, Sun Bin Fist practitioner, roared and struck first.

His staggered steps veered left and right; in three strides he reached Tian Fan's front, flicked his wrist, and his long sleeve slashed toward the man's face—inside the sleeve, a bronze spike aimed straight for the Jingming point.

"Hah!"

The bearded giant Tian Fan grunted, twisted his waist and delivered a side kick, his foot whistling through the air.

Classic Tan Tui: "Iron Broom Sweeping Dust."

Feeling the power in that kick, Yuan Heng's face changed—he hastily retreated.

But Tian Fan pressed his advantage, delivering a grinding kick straight for his groin.

Both men's attacks were cruel and treacherous.

"Stop!"

A soft command came from above the street.

A white figure leapt from a window.

It was a scholar in white robes, his face slightly pale, holding an oil-paper umbrella.

His skill surpassed theirs: the umbrella tilted sideways, its ribs lightly tapping Yuan Heng's Quchi point, forcing him back; then, with a reverse twist, the umbrella's surface spun like a vortex, sapping the force from Tian Fan's Tan Tui kick.

"The Master said: A gentleman has no quarrels—unless it be in archery!"

The white-robed scholar closed his umbrella, the tip resting on the blue flagstone between them.

Crack!

The flagstone split into a spiderweb of cracks, startling Yuan and Tian into three rapid steps backward.

The scholar smiled faintly. "Master Yang wrote in last month's 'New Chronicles of the Martial World' that martial schools fighting over territory are no better than street thugs. Today, I've finally seen it for myself."

Behind him, Kong Shangzhao quickly lowered his head.

But the scholar's sharp eyes had already spotted him, and he chuckled softly: "Brother Kong, you haven't trained at the martial hall in days—how come you don't even greet me?"

Kong Shangzhao sighed, stepped forward, and bowed. "Greetings, Elder Brother."

"Don't be afraid."

The scholar chuckled again, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. "I don't care about your affair with Shang Qing—but you know his temper. Hiding won't save you…"

Li Yan placed a hand on Kong Shangzhao's shoulder and pulled him behind him.

Just as he was about to speak, he felt something stir and looked up.

On the windowsill crouched a woman, dressed in pale yellow, bright-eyed and fair-faced, her chin resting on her palm, eyes brimming with amusement: "Master Li, it's been a long time."

It was Zhao Wanfang, the courtesan queen of Chang'an…

(End of Chapter)